


Dovetail

by Herbeloved82



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbeloved82/pseuds/Herbeloved82
Summary: In a world split between Dominants and submissives, your soulmate's name wholly appears on you only when you meet the one born for you.In St. Aquinas, the destiny of two men is fulfilled.





	Dovetail

**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks and love to Yesterday who was splendid beta. A special thank you to gimmesomeloki for the title. You rock Ladies.

Gabriel.   
Gabriel.  
Gabriel. 

That name woke him at night -- he screamed it so loud that not even the convent that was his sanctuary since his first exorcism in America could house him anymore.   
That name kept him company all day long, mocking him, a constant reminder of his failure. 

Marcus knew he didn’t deserve peace. He had left a child behind, his immortal soul lost because he couldn’t save his body, he couldn’t exorcise the body. So many possibilities, so many chances of greatness, lost because of his mistakes. 

He couldn’t get a moment of rest, running away didn’t help. His drawings - that once gave rest to his soul and soothed his broken heart - turned into enemies. All he could represent now was the forest where his mother took him when he was a child and Gabriel. Always Gabriel. Always the innocent child he was never allowed to be and who had paid for his weakness. 

And yet, what plagued his mind when he was awake were the words Baptiste said using Gabriel's innocent voice. Another of his many sins, the worst perhaps. How could Marcus claim to be a good man when it wasn't only Gabriel's death that made his life a living hell, but the reminder that his soulmate would never want someone like him? How could he be so selfish? 

His mind took him back to Mexico. Lately many had been possessed there and Marcus had suspected there could be a reason for that but never found out what it could be. 

The state he found the child was terrible. It was clear the Demon had been preying on him for a long time. Marcus didn't have to wonder why. Children were innocent and pure, everything that a Demon couldn't be and hated. They were the most hunted prizes. To destroy their immortal soul would mean to destroy a whole family and their faith in God. 

The moment he was left alone with Gabriel, Marcus knew the demon was strong, perhaps not enough to find out his secret, but enough to pick at his insecurities and fears. 

"Look at you, old Lion,” he had said with malice, using the voice of a child. "Broken and so, so alone. Are you still waiting for your soulmate, Father?" 

So that was how it was going to be. It wasn't the first time that his soulmate had been brought up by a demon but Marcus knew this time it was different. A vice of ice closed around his lungs, squeezing the air out of them. Fear like he never felt before, not even the first time he met a demon, took control of his mind for a moment. Long enough for the demon to sink his teeth into his mind, leaving behind the malevolent seed of a doubt. 

"Your mate is lucky he didn't find you yet. What do you have to offer? No one would want you, Marcus. They are better without you. Perhaps the God you love, the tyrant you refuse to see, decided to be kind for once and will keep your mate as far away as possible so that you won't ruin his soul." 

Those words never left him. The seed grew into poisonous weed in the days after Gabriel's death. He had fled Mexico as soon as possible after his first defeat. He ran and he was still running. He couldn't stop if he wanted to keep his personal demons behind. Marcus knew the moment they would catch up with him, he would lose everything. 

Saint Aquinas wasn't simply a stop in his long history of traveling around. No, it was the place Marcus chose to hide and lick his wounds. There, surrounded by men broken in body and spirit, he tried to find his way back to God. He didn't deserve any better, he wasn't better than those priests sent there to keep them from ever touching another child again. He had let Gabriel die in front of him. He had caused his death and for that he wasn’t different from men who had robbed children of their innocence. They had destroyed innocent souls, he couldn’t save one. Marcus was sure it was the same thing in God’s eyes. 

*** 

It was a day like any other. Marcus had left his room as soon as he woke up and reached his safe place inside the walls on Saint Aquinas. Those were metaphorical ones for him. He could leave any moment but he didn't want to. He was there for penance and God still wouldn’t talk to him no matter how many times he had begged to hear his voice. So he was still there, more alone than ever before. 

Marcus Keane was many things but deaf wasn't one of them. The other guests weren't exactly subtle in their gossip. He didn't care, he was used to hearing terrible stories about himself. They never stopped and never would, he knew that much. 

People had thought he was a Dominant since the beginning not only because the path he had chosen inside the Church, but even before, when he was just a child trying to survive. 

During the years he had been called many names. The murderer had been the first, chosen for him by the other bastards in the foster house. It never changed or got better. People who knew about his past assumed that someone able to kill his own father at seven couldn't possibly become a good man. They never stopped for a moment to wonder who and what his father had been. They never asked if a man who constantly beat and abused his submissive, who had killed her with a hammer, could be called a good man. 

At the end of the day, Marcus killed a Dominant when he was seven and that meant he couldn't be anything but a Dominant himself and given that the apple never falls too far away from the tree, it also meant he was destined to be a terrible and abusive one. 

Never did he try to change other people's mind. He knew those rumors worked in his favor when he chose to become an exorcist. The Church wanted him as far away from normal believers, and out in the streets at night, ready to fight demons and hopefully die in their hands. For many, that was his only hope of salvation. It wasn't a bad life. Lonely, yes, but not bad in the beginning. 

Now Marcus felt the lack of the other half of his soul. For many years, when he had been younger and less aware of how rotten their world really was, he had dreamed about meeting his soulmate. 

When he was still in the foster home, that was his only anchor. He had already begun to figure out his dynamic. It was the only thing he had in common with his mom. She wasn't the best mom around, but she was Marcus' and like any other child he had loved her. He was glad they shared at least something, but even more, he was glad he could never be like his father. 

When he had been sold to the Church his dreams stayed with him for a long time. The little hope inside his heart didn't die easily, but slowly the reality of light made everything harder. 

Every single day Marcus watched his mentors and teachers, all of them Dominants, to assert their power over the submissives sharing their bond. He had learned that like in any other aspect of society, even inside the Church, submissives were seen as fragile things never to be trusted with delicate matters. They could take care of God's herd but were kept far away from places and roles that demanded from them to make decisions. 

He had seen those submissives fade under the glass case where they were trapped. Every day the light in their eyes became duller and no one ever realized it. Was that really how a bond was supposed to be? 

Marcus never found an answer to that question. He kept his emotions locked behind the walls he erected to protect himself and with time he had lost his real self. The submissive he was born to be was still there, somewhere, but he too had lost hope. 

His childish dreams changed with time. They became bitter and darker and when Marcus began his career he was faced with another reality that made him happy to be free. 

He had seen what demons could do to men, he had seen them taking control, taking away their choices and using their bodies for their dirty pleasure. Slowly in his mind, the parallel between being a submissive and being possessed began to form. Today, only in the good days did Marcus know that it was an illogical fear born from the pain of being still alone, but those days were few and afar and he had become too cynical not to think that if his soulmate was still out there and looking for him, he would be a controlling, old fogey man who would want to control him wholly. 

Today was a day like any other and Marcus spent it drawing. His safe place was still mostly untouched by others. Too far away from the main buildings, too savage with brambles and grass that no one cared to clean. It was perfect and reminded Marcus of the forest where his mom used to take him as a child. She had realized, even before he knew the truth about himself, what he was. She had done her best to save him from her husband and Marcus was glad she has at least tried. Honestly, it was more of what he could have expected from her. 

Another reason why he loved that spot so much was the light. It allowed Marcus to spend hours sitting in the same spot, lost in what he loved to do. Like that he didn't have to pay attention to anything else. While drawing, he could imagine to be somewhere else, in a world where he had something to offer to a dominant and wasn’t the broken and cynical man he was today. Baptiste had been right about that, no one would want him by his side. He couldn't follow orders - perhaps because he never met anyone he trusted enough to do it - he was broken and harsh and too old to keep believing that God meant for him to belong with someone. 

It was a day like any other, only today the wind was unforgiving and bit at Marcus body. His leather jacket did what it could to keep him warm, but he was forced to leave his place earlier than usual. 

He had worked, despite his fingers going numb slowly, and the drawings were many and beautiful. Only Marcus never thought he was any good at drawing. He did it because it was a way to escape from a reality that was harder every day and also a way to translate the too many thoughts he had in his mind and make order between them. The one he spent longer working on was what caught his attention while he prepared to leave. 

In it, a figure showing only his back was resting his hand on the bare neck of someone kneeling at his feet. The second figure had his head bowed and his arms disappeared behind his back. There was something soft in the drawing that almost had Marcus ready to shred the damn thing. 

Even his mind mocked him lately. When it wasn't giving him nightmares that were only memories, it forced him to think about something that only hurt him. 

His fingers grasped the drawing with such force that the paper crumpled under his attack. He couldn't force himself to destroy it yet but Marcus was petty enough to make sure that the paper would never really recover. The many details disappeared between the created wrinkles and somehow that made him feel better. 

It was a day like any other when Marcus rushed back inside, so fast that someone could claim he was running. Like always he ignored everyone on his path. His eyes were trained to always take in any details, anything that was different from their routine. That day what attracted his attention was someone speaking to Father Simon. The poor soul had no idea of his mistake. Simon could talk for hours and hours and no one ever dared to leave his presence because of his blindness, not even Marcus. 

It was a day like any other when the visitor raised his eyes and looked at Marcus, locking their gazes together and when it happened Marcus realized that it was a day that would change everything. 

*** 

Only when he was back in his room and the door was closed behind him Marcus could breathe again. He didn't know what happened, couldn't even explain why he felt the need to run. Those dark eyes felt like they were searching his soul and Marcus never felt more exposed before, not even in front of a demon. 

It was like everything he had feared and wanted all his life long was there, just a step away but that didn't make any sense. Without watching where they landed, Marcus threw his sketches in the general direction of the desk. The room was spartan but it was more than Marcus really needed. He was used to staying in worse places and needing even less than what the accommodation had to offer. The desk had been a luxury that he took full advantage of and was now cluttered with books and paper, so much that he could hear the cheap wood creaking under the weight. His careless move caused some of the things on the desk to fall but he couldn't care now, still too upset by something Marcus couldn't grasp. 

Another door was locked behind him, putting more distance between Marcus and the outside world, and yet he couldn't feel safe. 

It wasn't like when a demon threatened him, it wasn't even a real menace that he felt, but he was sure that something would happen soon that would destroy the life he had known until now. He wasn't ready. Whatever storm would hit him this time, Marcus knew he wasn't ready. 

Without God by his side, Marcus wasn't sure he could face another tragedy so soon and everything that could shake the foundations of his life was a tragedy at this stage. He got used to living his life like he did in the past thirty years. It didn't matter how much that life hurt him, Marcus wasn't ready yet to give it up.

His breath came in short, shallow gasps. Unconsciously his fingers began to rub the spot over his chest where his initials laid, hidden by his clothes. Those were his most precious possessions, the only thing that was really his. Those two little letters held the power to destroy or rebuild Marcus once and for all. 

T.O. Those initials were supposed to turn into a full name the moment he met his soulmate. They still held all the power that could only come from hope. Nothing in his life had been strong enough to strip those little lines of ink, of their meaning. 

Marcus cursed himself. He was mad. Why was he thinking about his soulmate now? Why was he having that reaction to someone he never met before and how dared that stranger to cause such a reaction from him? 

He splashed some water on his face in hopes of calming down. The icy cold liquid seems to work a bit, giving Marcus back his clarity. He was being ridiculous. It was just an overreaction brought by the stress and his ill attempt of self-medication. He had refused to speak to someone about what happened in Mexico, knowing all too well that not many inside the church thought the Devil really existed. 

Marcus couldn't understand how someone could claim to believe in God and at the same time to deny the existence of his counterpart, so he preferred to deal with his problems alone. It wasn't wise but it was the only way to keep his secret safe. 

When he raised his head, his fingers white for the force used to grasp the basin, he met his own eyes in the mirror and what he saw scared him. 

A defeated man, too tired, too old and yet so stupid he still believed, deep down, that things could go better. Didn't he learn anything at all? Didn't he see enough to know that life was never fair? Did he forget that he made a promise to God, that he would serve him until the last of his days? 

Marcus was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed someone knocking at his door. It wasn't the best possible moment and Marcus hated to be forced to interact with the other guests and yet it looked like a good way not to think about the stranger. 

When he saw who was at his door, Marcus' first instinct was to close said door on his face and try to forget he even existed but he wasn't lucky enough, or quick enough and before he could find a reason to stop him the stranger was in his room, invading his personal space and that made Marcus mad. Before he could unleash and show the bad temper he was famous for inside and outside the Church, the stranger spoke and Marcus' world came down crashing around him. 

"Father Marcus?" The stranger said and taking away his breath. 

At those words, Marcus' chest began to burn. Something was shifting under his skin and his keen eyes couldn't miss the way that stranger's fingers reached his own right arm. 

"My name is Tomas Ortega..." His voice sounded pained now even if the stranger tried not to show it. 

Driven by a force Marcus couldn't hope to defeat, his shaking fingers, numb now more than they ever were even after long hours spent holding a crucifix trying to save souls, grabbed the neckline of his sweater and pulled it down. 

It was a worn-out thing he had for years now. One of the few things he could never leave behind. It had been for Marcus a safety blanket, the one garment on which he spent good money. For many that behavior was unworthy of a priest but Marcus couldn't resist. It was soft and warm and the only comfort he allowed himself to have. 

Now everything felt like a betrayal, the Lord looking at him from his cross, Saint Benedict on the small medal he had at his wrist even his sweater were conjuring against him. 

On the mirror, his reflection gave him the measure of their deception. There, over his heart where his initial had been, was a full name. Tomas Ortega. 

No. It couldn't be possible. That had to be a cosmic mistake, a joke someone thought would be fun. There was no way a man like the one in front of him could possibly be his Dominant. 

Marcus had to look away from the mirror. He was sure that the moment he would look at this Tomas Ortega from Saint Anthony he would see only disgust and perhaps pity in his eyes. Once he had seen that he would know that the Dominant chosen for him rejected him and he would be free to keep going on with his life. 

Yes, that was the perfect solution, Marcus kept repeating to himself in hope he would believe his words sooner or later. He stopped looking at his reflection and his light eyes focused on Tomas, piercing his soul, but something was wrong, really wrong. 

There was no revulsion in those warm and dark eyes, only relief. A soft smile made his handsome face tender like he was looking at something precious that he would love to protect. 

"So, you’re mine, Marcus Keane." 

To confirm his words - because how many times was Marcus lied to? How many times had people hurt him with words? - his eyes went to Tomas' arm and there, under the now rolled up sleeve, he saw his name written in clear letters on Tomas tanned skin. 

He still thought it was a joke, only Marcus didn't want to laugh at it. All he wanted was to throw Tomas out of his room, lock his door and never come out of it again. 

According to society, Marcus was now forbidden to do it. He wasn't the owner of his life anymore, all of his decisions needed to be approved by his Dominant. This wasn't the life he wanted, this wasn't what he asked for and at the same time, it was what he was born for. 

Father Tomas looked like a kind man, but appearances often were deceptive and Marcus needed to know now who this man really was. 

He threw a dirty look at the clean-faced, sweet-talking man in front of him. How was he supposed to handle someone like Marcus? He would scare the poor soul away, literally. One of his nightmares would be enough to send him running for the hills. 

"You are thinking too much, Marcus. Give me a chance, let me prove you that I can be what you need." 

Those words took him by surprise. He never was an open book. Even his mentor complimented his lack of external emotions, telling him it would be harder for the demons to find out about his fears and weakness. Now, this cub, with only a glance, was really reading him? 

Marcus snapped, pushing against Tomas, invading his personal space until his back was against the wall and he was trapped by Marcus' body. A position that would piss off any Dominant Marcus ever crossed path with. 

Tomas was simply smiling, his warm eyes amused and soft. Marcus could admit that he got distracted by those soft looking lips and a moment he forgot what he wanted to do. 

"You don't know anything about me. You don't know what I need." He said with a harsh voice. Marcus needed to protect himself, he needed back those masks that surprise made him lose. 

"You're right," Tomas said without losing the gentle edge in his voice. "I want to know you, Marcus. I want to learn what it is that you need and want." 

Marcus couldn't detect lies in his words and that confused him even more. He knew Dominants were supposed to use sweet nonsenses to allure at their submissives, he had seen with his own eyes many of them doing it, but Tomas really believed in what he said. 

"Why?" 

Marcus needed to know. It was already terrifying enough that his mind was beginning to believe Tomas and that his soul was begging him to give the Dominant a chance. He wanted to know why Tomas looked sure he wanted to try. 

Was it a trick? Or worse, was it a whim? Did Tomas hear about him and decided he wanted to tame Marcus to show him his place? It could be. He knew that the rumors about his person spread like a fire inside the Church, it would make sense that someone, finding out his secret, would try to teach him a lesson, to punish him because he dared to behave like something he wasn't. 

"Because you were made for me. Because I know if our Lord decided we belong together it means I can be what you need and you can be what I always wanted in a submissive." 

That wasn't the answer Marcus expected and once again there wasn't a single trace of lies in his body language. 

"Go home. Forget about me and this." Marcus said waving his hands around to indicate his world and everything related to him. "You can break the bond before it starts." It was a prerogative that only the Dominants had. 

"No." 

Marcus froze, shocked. His eyes were huge now, looking at Tomas like he was crazy. 

"Why?"

"Because you're mine and I would never throw you away." 

No one ever said something like that to him. What was he supposed to do with a Dominant who didn't want to let him go? Who wasn’t ready to leave him behind without any regret?

Marcus felt Tomas' hand cup his neck, in a gesture so intimate that he was forced to raise his eyes and look straight into Tomas'. 

Only when Tomas was sure he got his attention, he spoke again. "I would like very much to kiss you now if that's okay with you." 

Marcus could only nod, unsure. Tomas' eyes glued him to his spot and all the words were gone from his brain. When Tomas' soft lips caressed his own, asking for permission, without demanding anything that Marcus wasn't ready to give, he knew he was screwed. 

The kiss was gentle and slow. At first, only a peck that became deeper when, shyly and clumsy, Marcus began to answer. He had never kissed anyone before and didn't really know what he was doing. Tomas didn't look like he cared about the lack of finesse and simply enjoyed the kiss for what it was, an intimate gesture between two people. 

When they had to breathe again, Tomas didn't let Marcus go, their foreheads touching and a little smile on his face. "Thank you." 

Once again Marcus could only nod. He didn't remember how to speak or think and to make things even more awkward, he was pretty sure he was blushing. Oh if only the demons he fought since he was a child could see him now. 

Being that close to someone made Marcus aware of how much he had missed a human touch, how much he had missed what was natural for others. 

For years he had lived, alone, in a world shaped around his mission. Now Tomas had marched into his loneliness and demanded his surrender, his acceptance of the fact that the other half of his soul was finally there. Marcus was terrified of letting him in. He didn't know how to share himself and his life. 

They were so close that their chests touched at every breath and Tomas' hand was warm and comforting against his skin and yet just a shadow of what the fitting touch of a collar would be. 

"I need to go back to Chicago, to tell my sister I found you." 

Marcus felt terror crawling inside his soul, freezing and shattering that tiny spark of hope that already began to grow. Against his better judgment he had let himself to fall for the trickery and now he would have to live with his mistake. 

"She's used to leaving Luis with me when she works. She'll need to find someone for the next two weeks." 

Yes, the two mandatory weeks in which a newly formed couple would have time to cement the bond and -- wait, what? Why was Tomas talking about those weeks? 

"What?" He spat out, confused. 

"My nephew. He can't stay at my place while we bond." 

"You mean, you'll be back?" 

The only answer he got was another kiss that stole away the or what little brain function he still had. 

"Promise me you won't try to convince yourself I won't come back, that this was just a joke?" 

Marcus didn't make that kind of promise, he didn't like to lie. His mind was already mocking him, telling him that Tomas would never come back when he realized he could walk away from that mess that Marcus Keane was. 

When he watched his back walk away, he really was sure he would never see Father Tomas Ortega from Saint Anthony again. 

When Marcus was sure he was alone, slowly he slipped on the ground, his knees pressed against his chest and his hands wrapped around his ankles. He breathed deeply a couple of times, trying to calm his nerves and the maelstrom of emotions rising and storming inside his soul. 

"Is this some kind of joke for you?" he screamed against the cross shaped against the wall. "For months I asked you for a sign, anything, and is this what you send me?" 

He was pissed. Oh, he was so pissed. Tears of rage ran along his face and he wasn't powerful enough to stop them. 

*** 

Marcus didn't know how long he spent sitting on the floor but when he got up the light had changed again and the room was dunked in shadows. 

He was too old to sit on the floor for so long and his body cursed him at every step now. Every movement was hell on his bone but Marcus didn't care. His only concession was to sit on his bed now, his sketchbook against his knees. 

His night was spent drawing. Looking for peace in the only safe place he was left with. He never felt safe in Saint Aquinas but now Marcus knew it was time to move on. 

He would give Tomas the next twenty-four hours, knowing well that he wouldn't be back. After he would leave everything behind once again. If there was something he really was good at, it was running away. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. He had learned to never stop, because stopping meant his personal demons would catch up with him. 

Tomas Ortega wouldn't be the one who destroyed him, Marcus wouldn't give that satisfaction to anyone. Drawing helped soothe his nerves, the neat strokes of the charcoal on the paper took Marcus to another dimension where only himself and his works existed. He didn't know how much time passed, but the sun was already fighting the thick clouds when he was too exhausted to keep going and fall asleep, his new drawing still on his lap. From the paper, Tomas was staring back at him. 

*** 

When he woke up, Marcus was confused. So used to going straight from sleep to awareness, he couldn't understand why today was different until his brain finally woke up and he realized that there was someone else on his bed. 

Someone who was stroking his hair so gently that for a moment Marcus was back in time when his mom had been alive and she had shown him some kindness. 

But when he opened his eyes he saw Tomas. The same smile on his lips that he spotted on his drawing too. Thinking about it, he hurried to sit but it was already too late. Not only had Tomas already seen his portrait, but he had also picked up those that were on the floor. The picture of the kneeling submissive was on top of the pile and it looked like Tomas had taken time to try to smooth the paper and free it from the wrinkles Marcus caused.

"Those are beautiful." 

No mockery in his voice. People usually weren't happy about his drawings, so Marcus didn't know how to react to the compliment. 

“Pack your things, Marcus. We’re leaving.” 

Honestly he was so shocked that Tomas was back - and still, he didn't know for sure if he really was awake or still dreaming - that he blamed that state when he prepared his traveling bag in only a few minutes.

While he was busy doing his business in the bathroom, where the sparse toiletries he owned were scattered around, Marcus couldn't see Tomas carefully folding the picture he had almost ruined and put it in his pocket. 

He totally missed the way his brown eyes became softer watching at the beautifully drawn submissive on his knees and how they filled with lust and hunger when he focused on the hand cupping his neck instead. 

Marcus was ready all too soon. It wasn't like he had much to take with him, just his few clothes, his Bible and his pencils and charcoal. It wasn't that hard to get ready. 

*** 

Being exposed was never a good thing in Marcus experience. He had learned to never attract attention and to stay as hidden as possible. It had been easier to keep his secret for so long, so now, outside his room and by Tomas' side, he felt vulnerable. 

Saint Aquinas had been his hiding place for more than one year, and leaving it now was somehow scary even if Marcus wasn't going to miss that damn place. 

He kept his head down, his face was hidden by the shadow thrown by the black hat he couldn't leave behind and his body shielded by a leather jacket too thin for the winter in Illinois. The last touch to his armor was given by the way his arms were crossed over his own chest. 

But people would still talk. He could hear them whispering behind his back and didn't need to look to know what they were thinking, how they were probably pointing at him, pitying Tomas for his fate and wondering why God decided to punish their rising star by giving him to a monster like Marcus. 

Being that close to Tomas somehow helped, made him feel less alone. It also gave him the opportunity to pick Tomas' keys from his pocket. The poor soul should learn to be more careful with his things. 

Also, that gave him the opportunity to watch his reaction. During his life, Marcus had seen submissives punished for less and now it was his turn to see what Tomas could and would do. 

"I'll drive." He said, keys clinking in his hand while Marcus shook them in front of Tomas' eyes. 

That was a milestone for them and for a moment Marcus wondered if Tomas realized it. From his reaction, Marcus would get the first glimpse of what kind of a Dom Tomas was. All Marcus could do now was to hope he wouldn't be too disappointed. 

"If you want to face the traffic, please be my guest." 

What? Was that all? Marcus still couldn't grasp Tomas' character. He didn't understand him and usually, things Marcus didn't understand had the bad habit of being dangerous for him. 

When he saw Tomas' car he wanted to rush [in] and hide inside it, but he was too proud for his own good. He kept walking like any other day, like he didn't know that before they could reach Chicago the Bishop would know of what happened. 

Only when the door slammed closed on the driver's side could Marcus breathe again. Driving helped him calm his nerves down. There was the picture of a boy dangling from a chain on the rear-view mirror and Marcus realized he had the same smile that Tomas shown a couple of times already. 

He would mess up with this family. The way Tomas spoke about his sister told him they were close and the boy learned his [mannerisms] from his uncle and not his father. They were whole, a family, and Marcus felt already like an intruder. What right did he have to bring demons and unspeakable horrors into their lives? 

He didn't want to be the one to bring tears to those warm eyes that ran in the family but he knew that would happen, sooner or later, no matter how much he wouldn't mean it. 

One of Tomas’ warm hands clasped his leg and only then did Marcus realize he was shaking and his legs had jerked unconsciously since they left Saint Aquinas. Tomas' fingers were stronger than what Marcus thought, it was a comforting thought, but not enough yet to disperse his doubts. 

"Are you okay? Any regrets yet?"

Tomas had a strong Mexican accent that Marcus had totally missed before. He blamed the shock for the lack of attention, but now that they were so close he wanted to hear it again. 

"Shouldn't I be the one asking?" 

Shouldn't the submissive be the one showing weakness and doubts? 

Tomas had expressive eyes that were now used to reading Marcus and for once he didn't want to hide behind masks and walls. He wanted to be open, he needed Tomas to see him, the real Marcus, the submissive he never was allowed to be before. 

"Why? Because society made you believe only a submissive can be scared?" 

"Because it would make sense if you were the one with regrets." 

Tomas could have had anyone he chose. If he wasn't tied by the choice made by God for him, he could have looked for another submissive, someone close to him in age and less damaged. Marcus wasn't naive enough not to know that simple truth. 

"And yet, I don't regret anything. Give me a chance, Marcus." There it was, the same request Tomas already made and it still sounded honest. 

"I already did. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." 

"Then let me prove to you that you made the right choice." 

Of that Marcus wasn't sure yet but it was too late to go back now and he never was a coward before. He could only keep going and see where this new path he chose would take him. 

***

They were running out of gas and the first place to refuel they met on their way to Chicago was a seedy gas station. 

"What are you doing?" 

Marcus had to look twice at Tomas to make sure he was talking to him. He didn't get why all of a sudden he sounded both worried and mad. 

"What do you mean? We need gas." 

"And you think this is a good place?" 

Yes. It was a gas station, there was gas, that was exactly what they needed. Once again Marcus was shocked by Tomas' question but decided not to think too hard about it. All the Dominants he had met before were weird in a way or another. This was probably Tomas' kind of weirdness. Maybe he didn't like gas stations much, who was Marcus to judge? 

Marcus never realized he had the self-preservation instinct of a dead sloth. It never occurred to him that places like the station he chose, dark and lost in the middle of nowhere, could be dangerous. He was so used to facing the Devil that it slipped from his mind that sometimes even mere humans could be dangerous. 

He was used to living in the streets, to traveling into the most dangerous parts of the cities he visited, where not even the police were willing to go, and never had to deal with someone else being worried about his recklessness. 

Today was an example. He didn't understand why Tomas was so on edge. Why when he got out of the car, the other followed. One person was usually enough for a task like getting gas. 

He didn't understand why Tomas behaved like his shadow, plastered against his back like he was watching over him. Marcus was at loss. He didn't see any danger threatening them. Only men snooping around, wondering if they had something valuable they could steal. Usually, the collar was enough to keep those kinds of people away. Priests weren’t known for their wealth and people refrained from attacking them out of superstition, afraid of attracting God’s wrath. They were perfectly fine, so Marcus really didn't understand why Tomas was behaving like this and blamed it on his lack of knowledge over real life. But if that was the truth, then Marcus became even more confused when he realized how Tomas' hand cupped the back of his neck -- possessive and warm, a reminder of who he was. 

Marcus almost choked on his own tongue when he saw how Tomas was glaring at everyone lurking in the shadows, daring them to come close, to make a wrong move. Marcus wasn't sure Tomas could fight, but his eyes, fierce and burning with a fire he never saw before, made him understand how dangerous Tomas could be if he wanted to. 

There were a small group of men loitering right behind the pumps, Marcus didn’t even pay attention to them. They were like any other men wasting time in places like that. But this time they didn’t look like they cared much for their collars, one of them was feeling his back pocket, evidently looking for something that could be stored there. A knife with good probabilities. 

Before they could do anything, Tomas stepped in front of Marcus, what had been an open stance only a moment before was now well guarded and ready to protect. 

“Whatever you’re thinking,” he became and his accent sounded stronger than before. “I suggest you to get lost.” 

Something had to be very threatening in his eyes because Marcus witnessed how a bunch of men obviously used to be in charge, ran away like scared schoolboys caught to do something wrong by their headmaster. 

If they weren’t in an open and public space and Marcus didn’t have decades of drilled in catholic guilt to deal with, Marcus would have jumped Tomas on spot without a single care in the world that a submissive was never supposed to take the lead without his Dominant’s explicit permission. 

Knowing that that side of Tomas’ character was for Marcus to ease some more of his fears. 

In the end, no one dared to bother them and a small smile formed on Marcus' lips when, once they were back inside the car, Tomas' hand didn't disappear, a warm weight anchoring Marcus to reality. 

"Next time you endanger yourself like this, Marcus, I'll have you on your knees." 

Marcus would lie to himself if he claimed those words didn’t warm his soul and go straight to his neglected cock. He wanted desperately to believe that Tomas had it in him to keep his word. Perhaps, if he did, he could really handle him, after all. 

"I can't wait." Marcus couldn't refrain from saying, winking at Tomas. 

Blunt fingernails gently bit at his flesh, leaving small marks on his neck were Marcus' answer, one he loved.

 

*** 

Tomas' place was warm and cozy. A small apartment yes, but loved and lived. Everywhere Marcus looked there was something personal. A picture, a nick-nack someone bought thinking about Tomas, memories of places and people he had met and visited, who were important to him. Marcus felt like an intruder. 

Everything was warm and sunny - unlike the weather - inside this house and he knew his grumpy mood and broody character would ruin and stain it. 

He wanted to touch, to leave a sign of his presence behind, to make a place for himself between the things that Tomas cared for. Never before Marcus had wanted something so deeply. At the same time, he was worried, afraid to disturb a balance that was formed in years. 

Marcus didn't even realize when once again Tomas invaded his personal space. He loved his personal space - people coming that close usually meant harm to him, he had so many scars to prove it - and didn't want to give it up but it was clear that Tomas wasn't a fan. 

His presence was solid and warm and able to distract Marcus. Now that they were that close and he was looking straight into his eyes, Marcus realized how beautiful they were. They really were the mirror of Tomas' soul. 

He took a deep breath, taking into his lungs not only fresh air but also Tomas' scent, and let his forehead touch Tomas'. 

"I don't belong here." He exhaled and the words hurt him beyond what he had imagined. 

"You belong with me, Marcus. Give it a try, please." 

Tomas was so open and gentle that Marcus could only nod. For the first time since he could remember, Marcus wanted to try to belong somewhere. His roots had been cut when he was too young to understand what it meant to have everything stolen from him. Since then he never belonged in a place. Always a stranger, always the new arrived, always ready to leave. Now he wanted to try and stay even if his instinct was screaming at him to run. 

To follow someone else's lead was never easy for Marcus and yet, when Tomas took his hand he followed in a silly tour of the place, he followed without complaining, just a bit surprised by the sweet gesture. 

The kitchen wasn't too big, but it could fit two grown-up men comfortably. Marcus was both scared and elated by the thought of sharing meals with Tomas. He was so used to care for himself - and fail spectacularly - that the thought there could be someone caring enough to change his bad habits never crossed his mind. He didn't know Tomas enough to know what kind of dominant he was, but looking around he could be called a good man who needed to take care of the others around him. But how did take care of him? 

That gave Marcus an idea that could backfire on him. Perhaps, if he tried really hard, he could be that someone who took care of Tomas after he finished sacrificing himself for everyone else. If Marcus was ever terrified of something, it was the thought he could fail in that elf imposed job and leave Toma down. Why he was so scared to disappoint someone who just met was clearly written over his heart. 

For the first time in his life, Marcus had something that was only his, that no one else could take from him, and it was mindblowing. The need to do it right, whatever it was he was doing, was overpowering. Not even his need to serve God reached his soul so deeply and he had loved God since he had memory. 

Was he betraying God with his thoughts? Marcus wondered while Tomas' warm hand was his only anchor. He must have felt his muscles tensed up and was now soothing him with gentle strokes of his thumbs. Marcus never realized even his hands were ruined. Small scars were scattered all over. Demons really had a particular affinity with fire. 

"You okay?" 

No. No, he really wasn't. Or maybe he would be for the first time in too long. Marcus couldn't decide it yet. He didn't know what he felt. 

"Do you think a bond between us will mean we betrayed our Lord?" 

All his lifelong God had been the one focus for all the love that burned inside his heart. Now Tomas came into his life and he was unsure of what to do. 

"I think the love we have for God prepared us for this moment. What we have now it's only a reflection of the love he taught us to feel, Marcus. He created us to belong to each other, the only way we can possible betray him with is to refuse what He gave us." 

They were now standing on the bedroom threshold and Marcus had no idea when they reached it. weren't they still standing in the kitchen? Apparently not. 

"It's not much, but it's home, Marcus. For both of us if you accept it." 

Tomas' eyes were burning with fire now. Their calmness forgotten, overwritten by a hunger so deep and ferocious that scared Marcus but also lit a fire inside his body. It was because of him that Tomas had lost his composure, he was why that wildness hidden inside was now free to show itself. 

This time Marcus couldn't ignore the hunger he too was feeling. He didn't want to keep quiet. He captured Tomas' mouth and slipped his tongue between those soft lips. Tomas tasted like something made in heaven only for him and Marcus knew he was already addicted. 

"I will try." 

That was all Marcus could offer for now. It felt like a milestone to simply say it, to admit that for Tomas he would try to be better, to stop running, was a promise that Marcus never made before. 

Only when Tomas hugged him - and how sad was it, that never before he had been hugged by someone who simply wanted to do it - Marcus realized that he was shaking. Everything that had happened since he got his name, since his life had changed, the past two days that felt like a lifetime, came crushing down on him. 

Tomas' arms felt safe, he was warm and Marcus couldn't remember the last time he felt both those things. Tears ran down his face before he could think about hiding them and all that was left to him was Tomas. Marcus grabbed him like an anchor, like he was the only thing keeping him afloat in an ocean of emotion he had tried to bury and ignore for too long. He cried in Tomas' arms like a lost child who finally came back home. Tomas was his home, he was where Marcus belonged. Tomas was the one soul created for him in the whole universe and Marcus somehow managed to be found by him. 

"Oh, querido. Te tengo. Estás a salvo, te tengo..." 

Time was a strange concept that Marcus couldn't master anymore. He didn't know how long he spent in Tomas' arms and didn't care to know. For the first time there wasn't anywhere he needed to be but where he was. For the first time, he was exactly where he was supposed to be and the world wasn't ending. 

*** 

"Can you do something for me, Marcus?" 

Tomas' voice reached his mind through the cozy cloud of safety and emotions that Marcus was still trying to understand and master. He made a strange noise that in his mind sounded like a yes but perhaps wasn't as clear as he thought. 

"I want you to take off your clothes and join me in the bathroom in the next fifteen minutes." 

That was a strange request, but Marcus was still too calm to overthink it. Later he would probably freak out thinking about everything that could go wrong if he accepted Tomas' order - was that one? Did he just get his first order from his Dominant without even having a panic attack? - as fast as he did, nodding his head like it was the most natural thing to do. 

Tomas didn't look bothered by his lack of words. He was still smiling and his fingers were gentle while cupping his neck. The more Tomas did it, the more Marcus began to physically feel the lack of the bonding mark. 

Never before he ever wanted something as badly and he wasn't even sure why. For a long time, he had feared ever showing a bite. It was, in his mind, the tangible manifestation of his loss of freedom and free will. Now he knew he was so, so wrong. The little time spent with Tomas made him long for a way to show that he was taken, that no matter how crazy it could sound, Tomas was his dominant. 

When Tomas moved, Marcus felt cold. The ghost of his touch was still lingering on his skin and Marcus longed to have it back, to have Tomas close again, but he didn't voice his thoughts in fear of appearing too clingy -- it didn't matter if he was. It didn't matter if he was starving for Tomas' touch. Marcus kept his mouth shut and let Tomas walk away. A small part of his mind wanted to know what he had in mind. His curiosity was one of his worst traits and his mind had the bad habit of twisting things, turning them from something harmless to something nightmares were made of. 

Father Sean had always claimed that Marcus’ mind was his worst enemy, but also a strong weapon against demons. For that reason, nothing was done to change the way he saw himself and his mind never stopped hurting Marcus. 

Before he disappeared in what Marcus knew was the bathroom - he didn't remember to actually see the room, but he remembered Tomas pointing it out - Tomas turned and this time his eyes went straight to Marcus’, freezing him on the spot with how strong the gaze was, how demanding. 

"I want you naked before you enter this room, Marcus." The words branded into Marcus' brain. Want, not I'd like. Want. An order, an imperative that a dominant would and could use all the time. "Kneeling by the bed, waiting for me." 

After, Tomas kept walking like nothing happened, like he didn't just turn Marcus' world upside down all over again. Marcus was starting to lose count of how many times that just happened since they met. 

Once he was alone, with Tomas' last words wrapped around him like a blanket, heavy but not uncomfortable, Marcus did something he only dreamed about. 

He eased himself onto his knees, first genuflecting for Tomas like he did so many times for God - and wasn't that right? Wasn't a Dominant a God to his submissive? Or was he being blasphemous again? - then bending both knees in what should have been a natural position for him that instead felt awkward. Marcus was self-aware: was he even doing it right? What was he supposed to do with his arms? He didn't know. 

Before panic and doubt could make him spring onto his feet and run for the door, Marcus bowed his head and put his hands on his thighs, palm down. For a moment his fingers sunk into the tense muscles there but Marcus didn't have time to properly hurt himself before a sense of rightfulness washed over him, taking away all the dark thoughts that threatened to eat him alive. 

This felt right. This was right and for once his mind couldn't disagree with him. For once both his natures, the submissive, and the priest too used to care for himself and be alone, were at peace. All too soon his knees began to hurt, taking away his focus. It had been good for how long it had lasted - too little, always too little - now it was time to do what Tomas said. 

*** 

Nudity didn’t come easily to Marcus. Being naked and ready to show himself to someone else was even a rarer event. The last time it had happened he was still in the foster home and even then it only happened while the doctor came to check on them. Back then his body hadn't been marked, as now. Back then he didn't care because there was no one he wanted to impress. Now he knew he would let Tomas down. 

He wasn't young anymore, but Tomas already knew it and somehow he had accepted it. Now he would have to show him how damaged he really was and Marcus wasn't sure how he could react to the disgust he was sure would see in his eyes. 

The Dominants he had met before had been proud of the marks they left on their submissives - some of them had been twisted and sick perverts that no one could judge because it was their right to discipline what belonged to them - but all of them had something in common. They were proud of their marks and of how they were the only ones allowed to leave them. 

If Tomas was like them - Marcus hoped he wasn't. He hoped that what he saw until now was the real Tomas and not an elaborate ploy to show him something that wasn't real - he would probably lose his marbles looking at his body. If he wasn't and he didn't react to the scars, Marcus had no idea what to do with that. 

He knew it sounded crazy. He was confused by his own thoughts and yet he couldn't fix them. Not now, not while walking, naked, towards the bathroom where Tomas was waiting for him. 

One last gaze to the room revealed his clothes, neatly folded in a pile at the end of the bed. The room looked undisturbed, like his presence didn't actually ruin the calmness that the warm colors used to decorate it released. He didn't feel like an intruder there but like someone who could learn to belong, if only he managed not to scare Tomas away with his body. 

*** 

The air in the bathroom was warm and filled with a sweet scent coming from the bathtub where the water was steaming. Marcus didn't know if his mind was making up things but was pretty sure that the scent soothing his nerves was honey, and something he couldn't name. 

Thank God for small mercies. Tomas was busy when he arrived, he was kneeling by the tub and if Marcus didn't already believe in God, he would be persuaded of his existence now. The line of his back looked like something that Michelangelo would have carved in the purest marble and the muscles on his arms would drive a saint to sin. Yes, Marcus was aware of himself enough to know he had a type and that it was comforting to see the proof that Tomas could handle him if needed. 

He took his time taking Tomas in, committing every detail to memory - one never knew when something beautiful could be stolen from him - and only when the silence became too much he cleared his throat and let Tomas know he was there. 

The moment Tomas turned and his expression went from open and warm to closed, pissed-off and guarded, was the closest Marcus ever came to breaking. 

The mirror was fogged but Marcus didn't need it to know what Tomas saw looking at him. His arms showed scars old and new. Thin silvery lines and raised flesh, red stains, and too-lucid skin. Even his chest wore the proof of what he had endured at the hands of both humans and demons. 

Marcus' head fell, eyes downcast. He didn't want to see what he knew was coming. A light tremor shook his body. Damn it, he had believed, he really had believed that Tomas would be different, that he would have at least given him time to explain, to try to make him understand why he wasn't a white canvas that he could use. Why he couldn't be the first to touch him. 

Deft fingers, wet and still warm for the water, strongly smelling of honey, forced his head up again. They left a wet trail over his cheeks while gently stroking him. 

The warmth was back, those chocolate eyes were looking at him like he was once again a precious thing and not something that just pissed him off. Marcus was confused and hurt. 

"I -- I can dress and be out of here before..." 

There it was again. Marcus found it mindblowing how quickly Tomas could pass from one emotion to another and how open he was with all of them. 

Rage flashed into his gaze only to be buried again by concern. "Don't finish that sentence, please?" 

"You looked ready to vomit, Tomas." Now Marcus was pissed too. It felt good, it was something he knew, something he was used to. He could use that to protect himself. 

"Don't try to deny it." He hated when people lied to him. He preferred to be told to his face what Tomas thought of his body, he wanted to hear it, so he could go on knowing that he didn't let anything worth fighting for behind. 

"I didn't mean to look close to throwing up." Damn it, why he had to be always so polite? It wasn't fair. Marcus had a weak spot for politeness, probably because in his line of work he was used to seeing and hearing all the most black and vile things. 

"You caught me by surprise, Marcus. And I am ashamed to admit that for a moment I wanted to hunt down everyone who dared to hurt you." 

"What?" Marcus choked on his own tongue. One single word, so hard to say. 

Tomas looked ashamed now, and he was blushing. He was acting like he did something wrong, something that should have Marcus running. 

"I'm sorry. I know that violence doesn't solve anything-" Marcus didn't let him finish. His hungry mouth devoured the end of his sentence and everything else Tomas would have said to apologize. 

"Thank you," Marcus whispered on his lips. "No one ever wanted -- nevermind, just thank you" It wasn't like he needed someone to fight his wars. Marcus was on his own since he was seven and he didn't need anyone, but it felt good to know that there was at least one person who would have done something to try to defend him. Only he still couldn't express it with words, he needed to make sure that Tomas was really safe, a concept that he wasn't used to matching with people. 

"Are we okay?" 

There was still a shade of hesitation in his voice, but Marcus knew Tomas was back in charge of his emotion. They had learned something else about each other. Marcus wasn't easily scared away and Tomas needed to be protective of what was his. It was good in Marcus' opinion. 

"I think we are, yes." 

Then, Marcus' attention focused on the bath waiting for him. A proper bath, with bubbles and everything. To say he was stunned was a misunderstanding. Hot showers, sometimes even a bit too long, had been a necessity during the long years he had spent alone. When his muscles had knotted so bad after days spent bending and kneeling and doing everything he could to save someone from possession, hot water had been the only way to move again. That and painkillers that weren't always the best choice for him. 

But a hot bath? He never even thought about those. There was never time, there was never a reason to indulge in something that was both so decadent and reserved for a submissive who had someone looking after them. 

Only when Tomas put his hand on the small of Marcus back did he become aware of his nakedness, and yet the touch was comforting enough that Marcus didn't allow his mind to pull him back down into a circle of self-loathing and deprecation. 

Tomas never stopped touching him and his presence made Marcus feel what could be a new beginning. He didn't have to be alone anymore now. Now he had the choice to stay and let someone into his life, beyond the too many walls erected around his heart to keep everyone else away. 

All his life, everything had been about his mission, about what God demanded from him. Now Marcus had a new path in front of him, not divergent from his old one, but one he could walk at the same time, one that would, necessarily, force him to leave behind who he was. 

Tomas was more than a physical backing, he was a metaphorical one too. When he helped Marcus into the water his role shifted and became more, Tomas became everything and Marcus' mind went blank. 

The water felt almost too hot on his cold skin that soon turned red, but as soon as Marcus got used to the temperature his body went slack and he sighed. His eyes closed, head slightly thrown back, neck arched, Marcus was the picture of bliss. 

He felt the worries and the guilt he carried all his life melting away. Little by little his shoulders felt lighter. It was like he was remade with a new life, a new beginning in front of him, the sins of the past forgiven for once. 

Tomas was giving him a new beginning, a path that was never explored before. A path in which nothing of his past burdens could follow Marcus. 

Gentle hands took the burden that Marcus appointed on himself when he was still a child, the weight of the world he carried because of what he had done, his only chance at redemption, and laid it down, giving Marcus something that no one else ever gave him before: peace. 

Tomas' warm hand pushed down on his forehead, Marcus arched his neck, following the lead and exposing his throat. Tomas could do anything to him now and he wouldn't be able to protect himself, and yet he felt safer following this silent order than he ever felt without Tomas by his side. 

A strong hand covered his eyes and warm water fell on his short hair. Marcus kept his breath, taken by surprise. It felt like Tomas was doing more than washing his hair, it felt like he was baptizing him all over again. The first time it had happened he had belonged to God, becoming one of His sons, a part of the Church. Now he was going to belong to Tomas in a new life that could be scarier than his past one, just because it would be completely new. 

Tomas' deft fingers kneaded his scalp, scratching with blunt and short fingernails, pressing down where stress accumulated without Marcus knowing it, doing everything right to make him forget everything else. 

Only Tomas and this moment existed for Marcus now. Only the present. He felt good, he felt happy. The sweetest kind of noises filled the silence of the room and Marcus blushed an instant red as soon as he realized that it was him making those sounds. 

Those hands slid along his neck. They soothed away the tension from his aching muscles. Marcus' body softened under his ministrations. The massage, the hot water around him, the soothing scent of almond milk and honey . . . everything was relaxing enough that Marcus became sleepy and compliant, like a big cat napping in front of a fireplace. 

"You're beautiful like this," Tomas whispered, like he was afraid he could disturb Marcus and ruin the sense of peace that he had created in the bathroom. "You are so relaxed, like nothing can hurt you here." 

That was exactly how Marcus felt. His instinct knew that he could lower his guard. Here and now, with Tomas, he didn't need to be vigilant. There were no enemies lurking in the shadows to destroy him, no one ready to tear him apart with their words. There wasn't the Church scrutinizing every move he made, picking apart every decision and condemning his actions. Marcus felt, and was, safe. He could rest and let Tomas take charge. 

"You could,” It was a sudden realization. Perhaps Marcus was getting too old. he would have been more attentive, more reactive if they had met before, if they had met before he had lost Gabriel in Mexico. 

"I won't."

"I know.”

God forgive and protect him but Marcus already trusted Tomas. 

"I have waited for you all my life, Marcus. I won't promise you that I'll never hurt you, because we are human and bad things happen, fights happen. I won't lie to you promising things that I can't control. But I promise you that I'll never hurt you deliberately. I'll never intentionally do anything that will cause you harm." 

Marcus had learned since he was a child that words could be twisted and manipulated, that the truth could have many faces and many meanings, but even if he was eviscerating those words one by one, taking them apart and looking for lies, he couldn't find any hidden implication. Tomas was speaking from his soul, a fact as pure as the place where it was born. 

Marcus only nodded, not trusting his words. He couldn't risk them being broken by too many emotions, he couldn't risk revealing how deeply those words reached him. 

It was becoming an unnerving habit for him to lose his speech every single time Tomas opened his mouth and poured his heart into his words, making it impossible for Marcus to argue. This man was too good to be real and for some strange twist of fate, he was created for Marcus. The only problem was that Marcus knew he wasn't worth this beautiful creature. 

Before he could find his voice again Tomas' hands, now covered with a soft face towel covered in smooth foam that smelled strongly like the bubbles already in the water, slid to cover his back. 

Marcus' back was a mess of signs and scars that spoke loudly of a time - hopefully long past - in which the Church had thought that the only way to teach obedience and submission to God's will was through the chagrin of the flesh. Father Sean had been a firm believer that through pain, sins could be washed clean and forgiven. 

"What happened to you, Marcus?" 

Was Tomas asking because he was pissed someone had a go with something that belonged to him? Or was it because he really wanted to know more about Marcus? And above all when would his mind stop being such an ass to Marcus?

"We had very different mentors, or at least I hope." 

The thought of Tomas going through what he faced made Marcus sick to his stomach. He had deserved what Father Sean did. Deep down it was never about what Father Sean had to teach him but about making amends for what he had done when he was seven. It didn't matter why it happened or what the police said, he still killed his father and killing someone was a capital sin. 

"They didn't have any right to do this." 

Marcus didn't know how to answer. He never questioned what Father Sean did. He knew he deserved what he got and he knew that what he was doing could make him strong enough to fight against the Devil. That had been his only saving grace for so long that nothing else mattered. 

Exquisite lips covered one of his scars. Tomas kissed his ruined skin like Marcus was something precious to adore. One by one all his scars were lavished with attention and care. Tomas' lips stroked and teased and tasted his flash like he wanted to erase all the pain that Marcus had endured.

"God forgive me, but I want to hurt someone. Badly. I want to hurt whoever hurt you." 

Marcus didn't have an answer. He didn't know how to react to the sincerity in his words. 

"You -- you don't know what I did, Tomas. I'm not an innocent man." 

"Only a good man would say something like that, Marcus." Tomas was still washing his back, and his hands never stopped touching and lingering on his skin. Marcus never felt more cherished, more loved. Never in his life had someone had been so open to showing him affection. 

Slowly, showing that Tomas already knew how skittish Marcus could be, his hands left Marcus back. The towel, forgotten, floated on the cooling water. One of his hands covered his own name on Marcus' chest. 

"You're mine, Marcus. You're mine to protect and love. You're mine to discipline too, but above all, you're mine to cherish. No one had the right to hurt you like this." 

 

Once again Marcus felt tears stinging his eyes. Tomas' words had the power to reach for his soul, to soothe the too many wounds left on it. 

He splashed water on his face in a vain attempt to hide those tears. He didn't want to cry again. He was happy and at peace. There was no reason to cry now, so why was his body reacting like this?

"Your shampoo is hard on the eyes," he said when he looked up and saw the concern clearly written in Tomas' eyes and how his back had straightened, tensing up. 

"Don't lie to me, querido. It's baby shampoo." 

Marcus was so taken aback that all he could do was to look at Tomas with his mouth open in the ridiculous imitation of a goldfish. 

For his effort, Marcus gained a small kiss on his nose and Tomas' smile. How could a smile be so warm? 

The water was getting cold and Marcus' body shook slightly. He didn't want this moment to end. He could endure a bit of cold, just a bit longer, just to keep Tomas touching him and petting his hair. 

Like every good thing, even his time in the bath came to an end, but Marcus would deny he was pouting until his last day on Earth. It wasn't even a long lasting pout before Tomas wrapped his body in the softest and fluffiest shower towel that Marcus ever saw. It was even warm and if he could, Marcus was sure he would have purred like a cat at this point. 

Marcus was so cozy and relaxed he didn't complain when they left the bathroom and its warm air once again towards the bedroom. 

Marcus stumbled on his own feet. He could be a fifty-something years old virgin but he knew humanity - both the bright and the dark side of it - and was pretty sure he knew what would happen once they reached the bedroom. All of a sudden he stopped walking. There was something he wanted to make sure was clear between them before he allowed the bonding to begin. 

"Don't go behind my back. When you get tired of me, just tell me. I won't make a fuss and I will go but don't go behind my back, please."


End file.
